by Shea, K. M.
“Since Director Eastgate shut down the books section we don’t use as many funds as we used to, so Kingdom Quest decided to build a tiny museum instead,” Asher added.
Raven’s eyes widened. “Exactly how big is Saint Cloud’s budget?”
“Bigger than it needs to be,” Asher shrugged.
“They used several years worth of our budget money to make the museum though,” Aron chimed in. “And the city got a federal grant as well.”
“So if the first floor is art what’s the second floor?” Raven asked, brushing her bangs out of her eyes.
“An observational deck for bird watchers, and lots and lots of wax flowers,” Aron said, wrinkling his nose.
“Well, it is beautiful,” Raven said, nodding her head in thanks when Asher leaned forward and pulled the museum door open for her.
The museum entrance was constructed entirely of glass. The boys shrugged uncomfortably in the greenhouse effect heat and ignored the speculative look they received from an elderly lady who was perched behind a desk drowning in pamphlets.
“Here are some museum maps,” the woman straining out of her seat to pass a pamphlet to Raven. “Are you kids here for a particular reason?” she asked. She had the decency to smile at Raven, but she shot the twins a suspicious look.
“School,” the twins simultaneously said, folded worksheets and blue pens manifesting in their hands.
Asher moved to Raven’s right and Aron moved to Raven’s left before they grabbed her elbows and steered her into the museum.
“So,” Raven said, breeching the awkward silence as they entered the first room. “Harold is your mother’s brother, right? Is she happy that he’s visiting?” Raven said, eyeing the abstract art that hung on the walls.
“Our mom’s dead,” Asher said.
“Oh,” Raven stopped walking, caught off guard for once. That part certainly hadn’t been in their informational file. “I’m sorry… I didn’t know.”
The twins shrugged. “It’s not your fault you’re new,” Aron said as they released her arms.
The conversation died for a few moments before Raven spoke again. “Please don’t tell me this museum only has abstract art.”
Aron, who was leaning closer to inspect the nameplate of a painting that looked like a spattered whirlwind of colors, scratched out an answer on his worksheet before replying. “Troll’s tongue, no! It’s all work done by local artists.”
“Personally we feel there’s not an ounce of artistic genius in the area, but who are we to judge?”Asher said as he edged past a blood red haired girl who was studying a sculpture. Besides Raven, the twins, and the girl—who looked like she was a college student—the only other occupant of the room was a balding, older man.
“And the question is: ‘How would you describe Requiem of Solace? After seeing it, what does its name mean to you?’” Aron said, reading his worksheet before leaning towards the painting. “I think it looks like a dying swan.”
“Requiem of Solace? What does that even mean?” Asher asked, joining his twin.
“It is definitely not solace, but I suppose it does resemble a funeral song,” Raven said.
“For the dead swan,” Aron said before weaving around Raven so he could crouch in front of an empty wooden bench. He set his worksheet on the bench and started composing his answer.
“How many questions do you have left for this room?” Raven asked Asher.
“Just one,” Asher said, pointing to a questionable sculpture. “Hey Aron, the sculptor of Breakfast Bananas is Rufus Dobson.”
“Sounds just as fruity as his work,” Aron said.
Raven recoiled from a painting that depicted brains spilling out of a doll’s head. “Um, can we go to the next room?”
“Let’s,” Aron agreed, standing up. The twins took up their positions on either side of Raven and herded her into the neighboring room.
“It looks like this room is realists,” Aron said, shuffling in a circle.
“Look, fruit that looks like fruit!” Asher happily sighed.
“No dying swans or doll brains,” Raven agreed. “So you two like art?”
“NO!” the twins said, spinning around to face her. Their voices were sharp and firm.
Raven blinked. “Then why are you taking an art class?”
“Bakertown High School requires at least one liberal arts class,” Asher said, eyeing a landscape painting.
“Our choices were either introduction to art, basic cooking, or simple sewing,” Aron said, his pen clenched between his teeth as he tried to smooth his folded worksheet.
“Drastic measures had to be taken,” Asher said.
“Ray, come here,” Aron laughed, beckoning with his hand.
“What is it?” Raven asked, walking up to the younger twin.
Aron threw his arm across her shoulder and pulled her into a huddle. “Is it just me, or does that guy there look like Waldo from all of those Where is Waldo books?” Aron asked, pointing to a figure in a painting of a park.
Raven tipped her head and studied the painting. “He does,” she agreed. “But where’s his dog?”
“His what?” Asher asked, joining them.
“His dog. Waldo had a dog in the books,” Raven insisted.
“He did not,” Aron snorted.
“Yes he did!”
“Whatever you say, Ray,” Asher said, rolling his eyes before smirking and hip bumping her.
Raven tipped her head back and laughed before she froze and abruptly jerked upright. Without knowing it, Raven had been completely pulled in by the twins. She wasn’t even on guard against them, which was dangerous and stupid of her. “Okay guys, seriously. What is this all about?” Raven asked, her eyes going back and forth between the brothers.
“What is what about?” Asher prompted.
“This,” Raven said, gesturing at the museum.
“We told you,” Aron shrugged. “We have homework,” he said before dangling the paper in front of her face.
“That’s not what I mean,” Raven said, folding her arms. “You said you hated me. So why are you suddenly so…,” Raven gestured, unable to find the words to properly express herself.
“What, you mean we can’t call you our friend?” Asher asked, batting his eyes.
“You guys don’t have friends,” Raven said. “I might be new, but I am clued in to the gossip chain.”
“Oh yeah,” Aron said, snapping his fingers. “Japanese class. I told you they were talking about us that day we had group work,” he told his twin.
“Then you should understand,” Raven continued. “The girls told me you never talk to anyone. We seriously fought the last time we spoke. What are you planning?”
“If we were up to something do you think we would tell you?” Asher said, raising his eyebrows.
Aron whacked him in the stomach, making his twin bend and clutch his belly. “Look. It’s true Asher and I don’t exactly have a track record of being… friendly. And yeah, maybe we lost our tempers at you. But we decided we want to be friends now.”
Raven weighed her response for the moment. The twins were witnesses to her explosive conversation with Daire, so they knew she was there for less than innocent purposes. Nothing was gained by being cryptic, so she went for the abrupt path. “But why? I was sent to watch the Saint Cloud page turners and you know it.”
Asher snorted. “All of us know it. It was fairly obvious when they paraded you in, your folder stamped priority and sealed so tight even Mr. Prefect Page Daire had to squirm and do tricks for his dear uncle to get more information on you. Not to mention you are a breathing portrayal of Jeremiah’s ideal girl. I imagine Daire had a hard time making the twit keep his mitts off you.”
“Either that or Jeremiah is fifteen percent less stupid than we originally estimated,” Aron considered.
“Then why?” Raven repeated, frustration starting to creep into her voice.
“Because you threw your shoe at Daire,” Aron said, as though that was t
he obvious answer.
“…I’m sorry, what?” Raven asked, unable to keep pace with the duo.
“Daire is a tyrant,” Asher declared.
“One we hate,” Aron added. “Although we hate a lot of people,” his brow furrowed.
“No, we are apathetic towards people. Daire, on the other hand, is a slime ball. People say we’re malicious and conniving? At least we don’t hide behind our good looks and last name,” Asher snorted.
“No page turner has stood against Daire,” Aron continued.
“Not even us,” Asher added.
“And when you threw your shoe at him,” Aron clasped his hands and looked at the ceiling, a dreamy smile blooming. “and screamed like a banshee…”
“It was then that we knew you were our long lost third twin,” Asher finished. “Which would actually make us triplets.”
The Montamos twins paused to muse over this conundrum.
“Well anyway,” Aron said, shrugging it off. “We really didn’t like it at first when you were pretending to be dumb to suit Jeremiah’s tastes.”
“But we were intrigued when we saw glints of your true personality,” Asher said.
“We realized life will be so much more fun if you throw your lot in with us. We’ll even go against Daire for you, if you want,” Aron generously offered.
“What do you mean, throw my lot in with you?” Raven asked, seating herself on a bench before glancing around the room to confirm that they were alone.
“As far as we’re concerned we can only depend on each other,” Asher said.
“Of course there are some exceptions, like our father and Uncle Harold, and possibly you,” Aron said. “But the division is especially true when it comes to Saint Cloud.”
“The only reason why the page turners look remotely unified is because we were united against you. And even that was shaky at best since Royce was never able to refuse you and your ‘cute smiles,’ and Brannon finds it difficult to ignore anyone,” Asher said, standing side by side with Aron.
Aron held out three fingers. “Normally we’re split into three different groups. First of all there’s us: Asher and me.”
“We mostly play video games and explore the library tunnel system,” Asher said. “Slacking is our occupation.”
“Then there’s Brannon, and Royce,” Aron continued.
“Those two are the only ones who actually do anything. They run the computers,” Asher said.
“The last group is Daire and Jeremiah,” Aron explained. “They’ve been around the longest.”
“If a mouse sneezes in the library in the middle of the night, Daire knows about it,” Asher added. “Or at least he thinks he does. Director Eastgate submits any Kingdom Quest research requests through Daire. Daire and Jeremiah hog all the research assignments, which suits us just fine. It leaves absolutely no work for us.”
“But!” Aron said, flapping a long finger. “It allows Daire to control all channels of communication with his uncle. So if you want to do anything in the library as a page turner you need Daire’s permission to get to the director.”
“And even if you clear it with Daire, the director makes Daire look like a cute kitten in terms of warmth and friendliness.”
“So now you know. You can try to join Royce and Brannon, but if you do you’ll never be able to accomplish your goal of spying because they’ll keep you tied up at the desk.”
“Or you can try to join Daire and Jeremiah, which is pretty impossible because I don’t think Daire took the shoe throwing incident very well.”
“Or you can join us.”
Raven blinked when she realized the twins had finished their lecture. “So why did you guys decide to go against Daire, against everything you’ve ever done before, and invite me to join you?”
Aron shrugged. “We like you Ray. Or at least we suspect we would like who you really are.”
“The fact that you’re willing to go against Daire, not just spy on him and tattle to headquarters, is big,” Asher said. “You aren’t waging a war against Daire over the books just for kicks, or because you were ordered to. You’re doing it because you genuinely like the library. And we value honesty. ”
“So you’re basically inviting me to join your team?” Raven asked. “Even though I’m a spy.”
Aron shrugged. “Eventually you’re going to have to join one of our groups if you want to survive.”
“Plus we might know more about you than you think,” Asher said.
Raven had to strangle her desire to shiver as Asher stared at her with piercing green eyes.
“Asher? Aron?”
The twins looked up and Raven twisted on the bench to stare at Jeremiah and Daire, who were in the threshold of the room.
“Of course,” Aron muttered. “They would be here.”
“Think about it Ray,” Asher said, glancing back down at Raven. “We’ll be expecting your answer soon.”
The twins nodded at Jeremiah and Daire before they cleared out of the room, leaving a very surprised Raven behind.
“Ray! What are you doing here?” Jeremiah asked, a smile bursting on his lips. “Were you here with the twins?” he asked, his voice was curiously inquisitive.
Raven stood and smiled at Jeremiah while absolutely ignoring Daire—whom she was afraid to face. “Yes, although I suspect I’ve just been abandoned. They’re here for an art assignment, and they invited me to come along.”
“Really?” Jeremiah asked. The smile fell from his voice and his lips.
Raven considered the handsome blond and wondered if Jeremiah was more similar to her than any of the Saint Cloud page turners. Perhaps he too was masking his true personality.
Jeremiah snapped out of his mood and smiled again. “They haven’t done anything to you, have they?” he simpered.
“Oh no,” Raven said, cutely waving her hand and giggling. “They’re a lot of fun. If you don’t mind my asking, why are you here, Jeremiah?”
“I’m in Advanced Placement European History. It’s a college level course, and it’s going to be flaming hard to pass. The teacher recently offered extra credit to any students who compare and contrast renaissance art to the art found here in the museum,” Jeremiah twittered. “Daire’s in the class with me, although I think he came along just because I asked him to. He certainly doesn’t need the extra credit,” Jeremiah made a face. “He’s such a history nerd!”
“Jeremiah,” Daire sharply said.
Jeremiah flashed a wide grin at his friend before winking at Raven and whispering. “He doesn’t like admitting it. He probably thinks it will scare off the girls.”
Raven smiled wanly before glancing at Daire, who was all sharp angles at the moment.
“Jeremiah,” the golden haired senior said. “Shut up.”
Jeremiah had the audacity to grin. Instead of shivering and cringing away from the threatening Daire, like Raven dearly wanted to, he flicked his eyebrows up in a knowing gesture.
Daire sourly stared back at Jeremiah, his golden eyes spitting sparks, but he held Jeremiah’s attention for the merest moment.
“Oh,” the flighty blond said when he caught sight of the red haired girl in the abstract room. “I think I suddenly feel like admiring the abstract artists,” Jeremiah announced, absentmindedly slapping Daire’s back before sneaking into the adjacent room.
Raven edged towards the next room with the same degree of care one affords to creeping around a sleeping lion. She was almost to the doorway when Daire cleared his throat and called out to her.
“Not going to throw another shoe at me, Rachel?” he asked, swiveling to face her.
Raven froze like a rabbit trapped between the paws of a mountain lion. She panicked for a moment before remembering what she was supposed to be. “What happened to my shoe anyway?” Raven asked as she tried to repaint her image as a popularity concerned female by cutely swishing her ponytail.
Daire’s eyebrows slanted into a disapproving V. “It’s sitting on my desk, wait
ing to be reclaimed by its owner.”
“I thought you didn’t want me coming back to the library,” Raven asked, widening her doe brown eyes.
“You will return to Saint Cloud on Monday. The library director—my uncle—wishes to speak to you,” Daire coolly said before his eyebrow twitched in anger. “And would you stop acting like a wide eyed cow?”
Raven clamped a hand over her heart. “A cow?” she said, hunching her shoulders in forged hurt. “If that’s how you see me I’m going to find the twins!”
A cruel smirk tickled the corner of Daire’s mouth. “My uncle will break you, Rachel. And I look forward to it,” he said before turning on his heels and exiting the room.
Raven uneasily shivered. She was finally going to meet the library director: Isaac Eastgate. She hated him. He was the one who shut down the library, he was the reason for Saint Cloud’s suffering… and he had summoned her. Raven shivered about before she forced herself into motion and started searching for the twins.
Fox crouched in the grass, leaning against a house. His view was perfect. From here he could see into the McCellen’s house, which was directly across the street. Mr. and Mrs. McCellen were absent. They had left the house earlier that evening, wearing dressy clothes and cheesy smiles. If Fox had to hazard a guess he would say it was probably “date night” in the McCellen household. How domestic. How typical. How disgusting.
Fox stared at Rachel McCellen, who was seated in the house’s living room, open textbooks sprawled across her and the couch she sat on. Her older brother was out for the night, Fox had caught sight of him driving away from the house in an old Volvo when he first arrived.
Fox’s glittery amber eyes moved to the ghostly specter that floated up the street, bobbing in the middle of the road. It took on the appearance of a floating skull and soundlessly laughed, its bone teeth gnashing together when it realized it held Fox’s attention.
Fox deliberately flicked two of his fingers at the McCellen house, and the specter unwillingly floated down the street as though yanked along by an invisible chain. The skull’s eye sockets glowed ghastly green, and its jaw angrily flapped.